


Boys and their Toys

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Kinks, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-13
Updated: 2007-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8744968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Excessive use of battery operated toys. Batteries come with the package. The boys don't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** Boys and their Toys  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Rating:** Sooo NC-17, it's not funny ppl.  
**Summary:** Excessive use of battery operated toys. Batteries come with the package. The boys don't.  
**co-authored A/N:**   [ ](http://amara-m.livejournal.com/profile)[**amara_m**](http://amara-m.livejournal.com/)Ummmm . . . yeah. Boys with toys . . . and car porn of a sort . . . and Guh to the extreme . . .These are not your kids toys.  
[ ](http://plutogirl10.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://plutogirl10.livejournal.com/)**plutogirl10**  Yes. Just. Yes.  
  
 

*******************  
  
They’re finishing up at Clara Water’s house. Ghost banished, here’s the after care instruction sheet; have a nice day. That’s when Dean finally turns it on. 

  

Sam’s had it in all day but it hadn’t been on, and Dean’s not sure Sam even realizes it _can_ be turned on. But Dean’s got an accompanying plastic control in his own pocket. And he flicks the switch now, just as Sam raises his pretty cup and saucer almost delicately to sip the coffee she’s served them in thanks. 

  

Sitting across from Dean on the couch, Sam’s cup rattles and he chokes on his coffee. Clara, concerned, kind and far too flirty for a woman her age, leans forward to stroke his back. “Are you okay, doll?” 

  

Sam coughs and splutters. “Yup, I’m fine.” He unceremoniously dumps the cup and saucer on Clara’s coffee table and is halfway out the front door before Dean can blink. “We’re just about done here. Take care, Ms Water’s.” Sam says over his shoulder, ever the perennially polite college student. 

  

Dean makes himself wait as long as he can, making small talk and chatting with Clara, who really is quite cheeky. She was probably quite a looker in her day and Dean can appreciate that. Ten minutes later, he says his own goodbye and walks around the corner to where the Impala’s parked. 

  

Normally neither of them would have risked distractions on a hunt, but they’d known it was just a run of the mill ghost. And they’ve both been unusually . . . energized lately. So Dean figured why not? Sam had his games, and Dean had his own. Both were entertaining. 

  

He rounds the corner and sees Sam waiting for him. Sam’s leaning, hands on the hood of the car, legs stiff and splayed out wide. He lifts his head up to glare at Dean, his breath shallow and harsh. “Dean, that was not the. . . Jesus!” 

  

Dean grins as he turns the vibration up another notch on the butt plug. The one he slid into Sam that very morning, when Sam had been convinced that Dean couldn’t take him. Sam had agreed that today, even if just for today, Dean would be in control. 

  

Dean watches as his brother undulates and throws his head back, mouth open and fingers scraping against the metal. 

  

“Hey, hey! Watch the paint job, man.” Dean turns it down to low again and Sam relaxes slightly.   

  

“Dean. Fuck me. Now.” Sam grits out through clenched teeth and levels that glare at him; tries to pull out the tone of voice he uses when they’re done playing and he’s ready to _play_. Dean smiles and toys with the control, up and then down again.  He raises an eyebrow, his message clear; _not this time Sammy_. 

  

Dean’s been half hard all day, getting harder every time he saw Sam squirm or fidget or hitch his stride. But he keeps his face nonchalant as he steadily gazes back. God only knows he wants to bend his baby brother over the hood of his car, right damn now, and fuck him raw. But it wasn’t too long ago that Sam had pushed Dean to his limit, had him begging and breaking and quivering like a child, and if nothing else Dean has to even the score. In fact, he’s older. He should be ahead. 

  

Dean looks introspective, apparently considering the request, and then shakes his head. “No.” 

  

Sam curses under his breath, reaching for his fly and Dean rounds the car, slapping his hands away. “No, Sam.” Sam glares at him, hands fisting and for a second, Dean thinks he’s going to get punched. 

  

“Okay. Look.” He pulls the remote from his pocket, hoping to placate Sam a little. “I’ll turn it off.” He flicks the switch and Sam let’s out a puff of air, body going slack. Without preamble, Dean reaches out and cups him through his jeans, feels the firm flesh throb against his palm. Sam moans and bucks into his grip, eye’s rolling shut. 

  

“What is it you want, Sam? Do you want to come?” Dean drawls slow and lazy, pleased with how controlled he sounds, despite the burning in his groin. 

  

Sam just moans again, arches back against the car. Dean kneads his fingers, eyes transfixed on the long column of Sam’s neck as his brother tilts his head further. 

  

“I bet your ass is squeezing the plug so fucking tight. Like it’s my cock inside you. Does it feel like I’m fucking you already?” 

  

He leans in to lick a long line from collarbone to jaw and whispers harshly in Sam ear. “I’m going to make you wait. I’m going to drive you insane, Sam, until you can’t think straight. Until all you can remember is my name. And then I’ll fuck you so hard you forget that too.” 

  

Dean lets go and steps away. If he’d kept it up any longer, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself. And he wants to make good on his promise. He wants to drag this out for as long as he can; make Sam learn what it feels like to need something so badly that it felt like dying. 

  

Dean moves to the drivers’ side of the car, calculating in his head. “Come on, let’s move. We’ve got five hours before the next town.” He can hold off for five hours. He’s not fourteen anymore, and he’s certainly got as much, if not more, control as his brother does. He opens the door and pauses. “And Sam?” 

  

Sam pushes himself around to look at Dean, defiance still jutting his jaw out. Dean holds up the plastic control so Sam can clearly see him flick the switch back again. “I’ve changed my mind. It’s staying on.” 

  

  

**************** 

  

  

Sam groans in the seat next to him and Dean’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, a white knuckled grip that makes his fingers ache. 

  

Dean doesn’t need to look to know that Sam’s covered in sweat, legs spread wide, slumped low in his seat and head lolling back. Three hours. Three god damn hours with the vibrator on and off, high then low, varied on Dean’s whim, and he doesn’t know how much longer either of them can last. Dean’s hard and aching, and if he’d let himself, he thinks he could dump a load into his jeans just from the rub of denim against his crotch. 

  

Sam groans again, _please Dean_ , and Dean grits his teeth. He doesn’t look over, because if he looks, he’ll lose it and he has to concentrate. 

  

But he sees Sam out of the corner of his eye, sees his restless hands wander aimlessly, moving and touching everything around him, unable to stay still. The dash, the radio, the window. Touching, and then moving on to the next thing, but never touching himself because Sam was nothing if not stubborn. 

  

Every time Sam moves, shifting and fidgeting, it makes the car’s leather _creak_ , rhythmic like a ticking clock, slowly driving Dean mad.   

  

Sam keeps up his constant drone of murmuring, melodic and low. Just the same two words. _Dean, please_ and Dean knows he’s damned, because Sam’s in agony and the sound is sweeter than any Latin prayer Dean’s ever heard. 

  

Three fucking hours. 

  

_Dean, please_. 

  

Touches the seat. 

  

_Dean, please_. 

  

Touches the gear shift. 

  

_Dean, please_. 

  

Touches Dean’s thigh. 

  

_Dean, please._ And this time it’s a long whine, two words, eating up the oxygen in the car and melting Dean’s spine. 

  

It’s all he can take. Dean swerves the car off the road, skidding over bumpy ground, and throws it into park, killing the engine. He turns to face Sam and he almost comes in his jeans from the sight. 

  

Sam looks drugged and dazed, but he must realize something’s changed because he slumps down further and spreads his limbs, an offering and supplication both. He must sense Dean’s moving somehow, because now he’s keening, a high pitched noise from his throat, and cuts the sound down to one word. 

  

_Please, please, please, please, please_ , his head tossing, eyes closed. 

  

“Get out of the car.” Dean says, his voice harsh, throat dry.  

  

_Dean, god, Dean…please_. 

  

“Out of the fucking car, Sam.” Dean reaches over him and opens the door, and the heat pouring off of Sam is intoxicating. Dean’s hand slides off the door handle and up over Sam’s chest, up over his throat. He grasps Sam’s chin, tugs a little to get his attention. “Out. Now.” 

  

Dean is out of the driver’s side and around the car before Sam even has his feet on the ground. Sam shifts, slow and painful; the buzzing butt plug probably shifting inside him from the movement. Sam groans; a sound that comes from his groin and rumbles up through his chest before pouring out of his mouth and it goes straight to Dean’s dick. 

  

Dean’s the one pleading now, his hands reaching for his brother’s arms.  

  

“God, Sam…please get out of the fucking car,” because Dean is achingly hard and the friction caused by bending at the waist is nearly enough to make him come. Dean’s desperate, flicks the control for the vibration off and pulls Sam to his feet, pushing him toward the front of the car.  

  

Sam’s nowhere near coherent, and his feet slip on the soft ground until Dean grips him and pushes until Sam’s bent over the passenger side wheel. Sam’s body is like liquid poured onto the hood, his feet spread wide and Dean swallows at the sight. 

  

“Shit, Sam.” Dean whispers, voice hoarse because Sam’s ass is moving as he humps against the car and whining low in his throat. 

  

Sam’s still mumbling noises that sound like _pleaseDeanfuck_ , his cheek pressed against the metal of the Impala’s hood and damn if those weren’t two of the prettiest things in Dean’s world - Sam’s skin against the black metal of the car. 

  

Dean pushes the switch on again and Sam jolts violently. Dean lays himself across his brother’s body, groaning as he presses himself against Sam’s ass. One hand snakes around between Sam and the Impala, cupping the alarmingly hard cock in Sam’s jeans.  

  

“Tell me, Sam. Tell me what you want.” Dean murmurs urgently in his ear and Sam shivers beneath him. “Do you want to come?” He presses in on his cock and Sam’s hips surge forward, pinning Dean’s hand against the car. “Do you want me to fuck you, right here on the side of the road?”  

  

“Just . . . fuck Dean. Yes . . . fuck me, god now . . .” Sam pants, body heaving, and his fingers are fluttering everywhere trying to get Dean closer, trying to get his pants down. Dean catches the restless hands and presses them down against the hood above Sam’s head, stilling him. 

  

“Easy, easy.” Dean breathes against his ear. “Stay like this, okay?” Sam sobs, but nods and Dean lets him go. He fingers Sam’s jeans, pops open the buttons and eases them down over the curve of Sam’s ass. He slips a hand around to squeeze the base of Sam’s cock because he knows his brother’s ready to blow before they even get to the good part. “I’ve got you, little brother …feel that?” 

  

Sam whimpers and nods again, face pressed into the car and fingers curling against the hood. Dean’s leans down and presses him tighter against the metal.  

  

“You like that?” Dean strokes lightly along Sam’s length, and Sam shudders, before Dean squeezes him again. 

  

“Hold on.” Dean growls into the sweaty skin of Sam’s neck and reaches for the plastic control in his pocket. “Sam, you’re going to feel this. Just hold on for me.” Dean kicks the vibration up as high as it’ll go, and Sam yells in shock and bucks underneath him, body convulsing. Dean just squeezes Sam’s cock, pinched tight at the base hard and constricting, and all Sam’s violent rutting against the Impala’s fender is getting him nowhere.  

  

Sam’s gone beyond words now, mewling desperately and Dean isn’t sure if it’s sweat that’s pouring running down Sam’s face, or actual tears. But either way, Dean’s turned on beyond comprehension and waves of arousal pound through his veins, making him lightheaded, and he moans helplessly. “Oh, fuck Sam…yeah…” 

  

Dean let’s go long enough to rips his jeans open, sees Sam jump at the sound and he presses the flat of his hand against Sam’s ass, twisting the plug, fucking him with it roughly. He pulls it out and Sam’s left quivering and open in front of him. Dean presses himself against the raw opening, feels the muscle tremble against the head of his cock. 

  

They can’t be slow. He can’t prolong it like he wants because they’re parked alongside a public road, and while they haven’t seen another car for nearly an hour, one can come along at any moment. And Dean’s quickly losing any self-control he had anyway, so he pushes in . . . and he feels himself liquefy. 

  

“Oh god. Oh _fuck_ . . .” And he has no idea what else he’s saying because Sam has never felt so hot…so fucking hot and loose and without lube of any kind. And Dean just slides inside him, his cock swelling impossibly harder as Sam’s body melts under him, as if his bones have disappeared and he’s nothing but hot flesh held together by the car and Dean. 

  

Dean’s hips stutter helplessly, his rhythm erratic and uncontrolled because his head is reeling at the intensity of the moment.  

  

“Fuck, Dean please . . .” Sam’s starts mouthing obscenities, his pretty lips spewing dirty words that drive Dean insane and make him push and thrust harder and faster, fucking him deeper.  

  

_Dean, please …harder, fuck me harder. Oh shit, shit, need you . . . deeper Dean. More, more, holy fuck…_ And just when he thinks Sam might actually talk him to orgasm, Sam presses up on the hood of the car, ass clenching harder around him; lifts his head, and throws a desperate look back at him, panting and sweaty, with his gorgeous face that’s painted with nothing more than pure lust. And Sam looks so far gone and _fuck_ but Dean can’t function anymore, his body convulsing as he explodes inside his brother. He presses in and pulls down on Sam’s cock, rough and dry and hears Sam scream, feels his release splash hot against his hand. 

  

He slumps down, leaning heavily against Sam and waits for long moments. He comes back to himself, but he’s still inside Sam, still shaky because it was too intense and fast, it was just too much and it was just so. damn. good. Threading his fingers through the sweaty hair at the base of Sam’s skull, he grips and massages lightly. “Hey. You still with me?” 

  

Sam groans and pushes back at Dean, pushing him out and away, and turns, sinking to sit his bare ass on the grass, leaning against a dusty tire. He looks up at Dean with fucked-over eyes, through lowered lashes, and Dean wants to do him all over again. Though maybe not with his dick, because that’s clearly out of commission for a while, spent and limp against his jeans. 

  

Dean pants for a moment, looking down at his fucked out baby brother with something close to pride. 

  

“I knew you wouldn’t last.” Sam’s thin voice is threaded through with exhaustion, but there’s something of a challenge in it. 

  

Dean reaches down with unsteady hands to tuck himself in and zip up. “What?” 

  

“You are so whipped.” 

  

Dean’s head jerks up to look at him and he sees the gleam of self satisfied arrogance through the tiredness in Sam’s eyes. 

  

“You wanted to wait, right? Until we got there, to the motel?” Sam grins and Dean sees a flash of bright white in the darkness. “By my count, we’re still two hours away. You’re so whipped.” He can see the expression, even without much light. The one that declares Sam the winner of some little game…this game…this fucking competition that hadn’t existed until that very moment. 

  

Dean stares at him, mouth agape. “You little bitch. You were _begging_ me, Sam.” 

  

Sam’s grin just gets wider and Dean wants vengeance. He realizes that Sammy has played him…maybe not completely, because Sammy was pretty far gone, he’s fairly sure, but at least some of it was for show…for getting one up on him. Dean spots the butt plug and scoops it up, sees Sam’s smile fade.  

  

“You’re right, we’re still two hours away. And it’s still my day, until nine tomorrow morning.” Dean walks over and crouches to meet him eye to eye, waves the plug around. 

  

Sam swallows, eyes big and dark. “Dean?” 

  

“This is going back in. And I’m turning it back on.” Dean gives him a grim smile and keeps his voice quiet and calm. “Keep it in, Sam. If it falls out, or you come without permission, I’ll…” Dean tilts Sam’s chin up to lock their gaze, to make Sam understand that he’s deadly serious. 

  

“Sam, I’ll put you over my knee and spank your ass until you come in my lap.” Sam trembles and makes a small noise in his throat, a pained half-whimper, and it sends excitement thrilling through Dean’s gut. He runs a thumb over Sam’s lower lip, dipping in to feel wet, hot silk, and he drags at the soft flesh. 

  

“Now turn around, Sam.”   
  
****************  
  


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Boys and their Toys, Part Two  
Pairing: Sam/Dean  
Authors: [ ](http://amara-m.livejournal.com/profile)[**amara_m**](http://amara-m.livejournal.com/) and [ ](http://plutogirl10.livejournal.com/profile)[**plutogirl10**](http://plutogirl10.livejournal.com/)  
Rating: Sooo NC-17, it's not funny ppl.  
Summary: Once upon a time there was [Boys and their Toys](http://plutogirl10.livejournal.com/7468.html) Now there's more. With bondange and spankings and buzzing toys...oh my!  
  
A/N: [ ](http://plutogirl10.livejournal.com/profile)[**plutogirl10**](http://plutogirl10.livejournal.com/): Amara is my porn buddy. MINE. Hands off, no touching. But u can read our fic if you want to, kay?  
  
A/N: [ ](http://amara-m.livejournal.com/profile)[**amara_m**](http://amara-m.livejournal.com/): *points to [ ](http://plutogirl10.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://plutogirl10.livejournal.com/)**plutogirl10** * She's not kidding peoples...possessive little lovely, isn't she?  
  
  
  
It’s strange, the way his entire body is slack and numb, but stretched out and pulled taut at the same time.  
  
It wouldn’t take much now, to break. He has no idea how long it’s been, the boxed numbers glowing at him from the nightstand started swimming in the dark, liquid-rippling under the trails of sweat dripping into his eyes. Arms stretched above his head, toes digging into the sheets, and the constant buzzing of the plug. His muscles are aching yet numb, loose and on fire.  
  
He’s hard; feels his cock lying heavy on his stomach, throbbing and pulsing, sore and tender.  
  
The plastic slips and Sam panics, thighs tensing and ass clenching to hold it inside him. He tries to reach down, but can’t. Rough rope burns the thin skin of his wrists.  
  
This stopped being a game when they’d gotten to the room. When Dean made him strip. When Dean held him down and tied him up. When Dean left him.  
  
The door opens, and Sam stops breathing. He’s in some kind of zen state, half aware of his surrounding, and feels fingers trace up this thigh and tap on the toy.  
  
“You kept it in.”  
  
Sam clenches, and every muscle that was numb just a second ago is now vibrating in time with the plastic. “Dean god, please…”  
  
It’s humiliating, his whimpering and the way he spreads his legs apart. The way his whole body trembles as Dean’s finger brush against the plastic, against the red-raw circle of him. He wants it. He needs it.  
  
“I know.” Dean smiles, slow and heated. Fingers brush over his wrists, work the binds loose and Dean’s rubbing the sore muscles back into feeling, bends to drop a kiss on the inside of his elbow. He tongues the sensitive skin there, sucks it between his teeth to bruise him and Sam squirms helplessly.  
  
“Dean.” His voice is hoarse and shredded, as if he’s been screaming himself raw. But there’s only been silence, and the silence echoes loud now, broken by Dean’s voice almost gun-shot loud in the room.  
  
“I’ve got you, Sam. Just relax.”  
  
The buzzing stops and Sam takes what feels like his first deep breath, and begs. “Dean, please Dean, I need-”  
  
“What, Sam? Tell me.” Dean’s body is a warm weight pressed along his side, spreading him wider, stroking numb flesh back to life. Deft fingers skirt past Sam’s cock, and press underneath. Press against the toy and eases it deeper into him and making him whine.  
  
“ _God_ I want . . .” It’s about surrender, about being Dean’s baby brother. About giving up his control. About childhood memories of Dean reprimanding him and wanting Dean to make him fall apart with rough hands and a hard voice.  
  
Dean fucks the toy into him again, and Sam arches up off the bed, gasping. “Fuck, Dean. Please . . . just stop.”  
  
Dean lets go and the plastic slips out of him, and falls loose.  
  
It’s all been playing up until now, the same damn one-upmanship that drove them through most of their teenage years. But it changes. Just as if Sam had spoken the words that shifted everything into that space, only this time, the roles are reversed.  
  
It’s stopped being a game when Dean tied him down.  
  
Sam can’t look at his brother, almost can’t breathe. Dean’s lying beside him, still dressed, his clothes cool from the world outside the door, and Sam swallows, makes himself ease back onto the bed.  
  
Dean’s finger on his lip hushes him and his hand around Sam’s cock is almost painful. “Let’s get you there.” Dean whispers and his hand moves, making Sam jump, and he’s panting and coming in less than a minute, his body on fire, shaking. He yells and bucks and tries to get away from the too much sensation on oversensitive skin.  
  
He’s still half hard, when it’s over.  
  
Fingers slide easily into his fucked open hole. Sam’s eyes shut, his legs falling open even more obscenely. “More.” He whispers, even though he’s just come…even though he’s exhausted and trembling.  
  
“You need a break, Sammy.” Dean whispers back, his face nuzzled against Sam’s neck. “Go wash up.”  
  
“Dean, I…” He stops because he’s uncertain now. Sam chances a look at Dean, but his face his blank. Not giving an inch.  
  
“I said go wash up, Sam. We’ve got plenty of time.” His fingers slip out of Sam and Dean draws back, pulls away. “Don’t touch yourself. Don’t even think about it.”  
  
Sam doesn’t hesitate, moves on shaky legs to do as he’s told, running the water only lukewarm, trying to cool himself and ease the fire pounding through him. It doesn’t help, and stepping out of the shower all he can think about is the way the butt plug fell…the way he _let_ it go. The way he stopped even trying, and he doesn’t really know what that means.  
  
It flushes through him…the image of Dean slapping his ass, hard and rough and painful. It makes him shiver, and he bites back a moan.  
  
He’s bent over, splashing cool water against his face when rough fingers stroke over his ass, making him clench.  
  
“You let the plug go.” The words are barely a whisper, floating tense and taut on the quiet air.  
  
Sam straightens and turns around, and Dean’s looking at him, gloriously naked and hard.  
  
 _If it falls out, Sam . . . I’ll put you over my knee, and spank your ass until you come._  
  
They’re both thinking it and Dean just keeps looking at him. Heavy breath speeds up and gets rough, and Sam’s cock thickens and fills. He’s frozen to the spot, heart pounding and not entirely sure what to say.  
  
 _Dean, I want you to spank me. I’m getting hard thinking about it.  
  
Dean, I want you to hurt me. _  
  
There’s nothing but silence for long, thinly stretched moments, and something in Dean’s face softens.  
  
“Sam, forget about it. It’s okay.” Dean touches gentle fingers to Sam’s hip and he shivers, the touch sending electricity zipping along his spine.  
  
“Don’t you want to?” Sam runs his finger up underneath Dean’s cock, feels the thick vein pulse against the pad of his thumb. Dean shudders and lightly catches his wrist, holding him still, and Sam has to make himself meet Dean’s gaze.  
  
He has to _make_ himself. Because they’ve never tried this with Sam before.  
  
Dean has always made it so easy for him, giving him everything he asked for, and some things he didn’t. Always made it clear in his unashamed way that he enjoys the things Sam does to him.  
  
 _Dean’s voice trembling with the push and pull of pain, excitement thrilling through them both. ‘Fuck yeah, Sam, god again’._  
  
It’s familiar and sure and something that Sam _knows_. But this? This is all new.  
  
“I want to try it. I want you to show me. Show me what it feels like.” Sam looks away because there’s no subtle way to say it, and the words come out clipped and short. “I want you to spank me.”  
  
He can feel his face flushing hot with embarrassment, and as he clenches in anticipation. And he knows now that part of it is wanting to feel what it is Dean feels when he does this to him…but there’s another part…and it isn’t about the pain…its about _this_ , the blush, the embarrassment, about wanting his brother to do this.  
  
“Sam.”  
  
He looks up and Dean’s looking at his groin, lips parted and breathing heavy, and his brother’s obvious arousal is enough to make is own dick swell and pulse.  
  
“Sam.” Dean says again, lifting his gaze up the length of Sam’s body to look him in the eye. “It’ll hurt.”  
  
“I trust you.” Sam’s voice is calm and steady. And that seems to mean a whole lot, because Dean’s eyes splinter into three shades of jade and his breath hitches in a way that makes Sam’s toes curl.  
  
“Christ. Yeah . . . okay.” Dean fists his hands at his sides, voice hoarse and shaky. Sam immediately leans in, kissing Dean’s mouth messy and wet and a touch desperate.  
  
“How do you want me?” He pants, cock pressed to Dean’s thigh, throbbing and making his stomach twist.  
  
“Against the sink.” Dean nudges, turning him around to press against the basin.  
  
Sam bends over, cold porcelain pressing against his blood-hot cock and he shivers, feeling ridiculously _naked_ , back and legs and ass all bare and exposed.  
  
Familiar lips brush against his ear, settling him, and Dean murmurs from behind. “Look at me.”  
  
Sam meets his gaze in the mirror above the sink, and chokes down a moan.  
  
Dean’s looking at him over his shoulder, from underneath hooded eyes, lips shiny with spit and breathing harsh, and the lust he’s focusing on Sam is almost overpowering. It would be obscene if it was coming from anyone other than his brother.  
  
As it is, Sam’s gut liquefies and seeps out through his dick in slow pearls, pressing slick against the smooth sink. His spine melts and his own breathing picks up; his entire body flushing in hot-cold shivers.  
  
They haven’t even done anything yet.  
  
“Keep looking at me.” Dean runs a feather-soft line down his spine, over the curve of his ass and Sam curls his fingers around the edges of the bowl, gripping hard.  
  
“Tell me to stop, Sam. Let me know.”  
  
Sam hasn’t even finished nodding before Dean brings his hand down, a sharp and hard slap. Sam yelps, pelvis thrusting forward to bang against the sink. The acid-sting is gone fast, leaving his ass tingling and sensitive.  
  
“Sam. Look at me.” Strong fingers knead his ass gently, soothingly, and Sam whimpers.  
  
He lifts startled eyes to meet Dean’s gaze. He hadn’t even realized he’d looked down. Their eyes lock and Sam’s sees the muscles in Dean’s shoulder tense and shift as he draws his hand back again.  
  
He sees it coming, but it still hurts and Sam’s breath catches in his throat, teeth catching his lower lip and muffling his small noise of shock. The next blow lands lower, on the tender curve where his ass met his thigh, and Sam’s eyes flutter closed. “Fuck.”  
  
It’s harder than he thought to hold himself together…to stand there against the sink, with his cock leaking and his mind on overload. His ass stings, and he imagines it must be as red as his face. “Fuck” he whispers again, voice hoarse as if he’s been screaming for hours.  
  
“Sammy. Tell me.” Dean reaches up and cups his chin, thumb stroking gently over Sam’s mouth.  
  
“Again.” Sam breathes against the pad of Dean’s finger, opening his eyes and making himself look at his brother in the mirror.  
  
Dean sucks in a breath, looks as if he’s going to stop him, stop this whole thing and Sam reaches back to grip Dean’s bare hip. “Please. I’m okay.”  
  
Dean clenches his jaw, and Sam breathes in anticipation, holding the air in his lungs, holding himself tense and tight and ready. Dean hits him in short rapid slaps, hard and unforgiving, their eyes locked one another in the mirror. His burning cock brushes against the cold porcelain in front of him, startling him into pushing back, and Dean has to hold him still.  
  
Sam’s eyes water and he looks away, looks down. Because this is where he’s uncertain . . . this is the part he was afraid of; that he _wants_ this.  
  
“More.” He whispers, shaking a little. He whimpers as Dean’s fingers stroke over hot flesh, careful and gentle.  
  
Sam doesn’t know if Dean understands, he isn’t sure it matters. This whole dynamic is thrilling and new and he feels it now, god he feels it. Cock pulsing and skin burning and _Dean_.  
  
Dean pressing against him from behind, Dean holding him down and hurting him.  
  
Sam can’t help the hot tears drip and spill, tastes the wet-salt of them in the corner of his mouth and he looks away, ashamed and trembling and turned on beyond reason.  
  
A callused thumb traces over his cheek, brushing at the glistening-wet tracks. Dean tightens his fingers over Sam’s jaw, pulls his face back to look into the mirror. “Baby, look at me. I want to see.”  
  
Sam’s belly quivers and his chest clenches, and he can’t hold himself anymore, he doesn’t want to. Dean’s hand comes down so fucking hard and it hurts so fucking good, Sam breath stutters and he’s crying and he’s so close to coming, he wants it so badly . . .  
  
The sounds coming out of his mouth make no sense, he might be begging and he might be swearing, and his skin is on fire, burning from his thighs up to his lower back. His cock is swollen hot and he has to come, he needs to come, please Dean oh god.  
  
The next painful spank has Sam sobbing, trembling, legs giving way and he collapses forward against the sink.  
  
“Fuck, Sam. Okay, baby. You’re okay.”  
  
He’s being turned around, gentle hands pushing him back against the sink and Dean’s dropped to his knees in front him.  
  
“Dean, wait.” His ass is raw and burning hot, pressing against the cool porcelain. He cards his fingers through the bristle of Dean’s hair, tugging weakly, because this wasn’t how it’s meant to go. He can see Dean’s erection, dark and thick, and he has to . . . “Dean, please-”  
  
“Not fucking you, kid. Christ, I should never have . . .”  
  
“You didn’t-” But Sam looses the train of thought as Dean’s mouth closes over him, warm and wet and suckling. He stops breathing, grips the sink behind him to keep upright as his knees give way and his eyes fall shut.  
  
Dean’s tongue plays over, then under his cock, lapping at pre-come before sucking him all the way in again. Callused hands slide up his hips, strong fingers pressing into the heated skin at the top of his ass and Sam bucks forward, pushes deep into Dean’s throat. His fingers dig into Dean’s skull as his brother’s throat opens…just fucking opens and Sam’s cock just slides right in.  
  
“Oh my god…” And he’s finally coming…uncontrollably spurting thread after thread of come so deep down his brother’s throat, Dean has no choice but to swallow. Dean slows down to long, tight sucks on the oversensitive skin and then he’s pulling off, peering up at Sam’s face.  
  
Sam loosens his death grip on Dean’s head, panting breath slowing down, his entire body tingly-tight and buzzing from too much too fast.  
  
“I wanted it.” He lets his knees buckle, dropping onto cold tiles in front of Dean. “I asked for it, okay?”  
  
Dean gives him a look, hand coming up to cup his jaw, and Sam knows it’s not going to be enough. But it’ll do for now.  
  
He grins weakly, tired and spent. “So. That’s what it feels like, huh?”  
  
Warmth flushes through him when Dean gives him a shaky smile in return. He eases closer and Dean leans forward immediately, their mouths meeting in a wet, messy kiss.  
  
“Yeah, Sam.” Dean mumbles against his lips. “That’s what it feels like.”


End file.
